My Light In The Darkness-Series (2): Braving The Plunge
by subseeker
Summary: Joe saw. He saw Jon. And sometimes Jon wasn't sure if he should be scared about it because... no one knew. That he was living my life with fear bubbling up his throat. That he was guarding his heart with an iron grating and gritted teeth because the prospect of getting burned was enough already to leave him on the porch. (Ambreigns, another step on their way become friends or more)


Dumdidum, a little Ambreigns something to start the week.

This one is part of a series (for which I still have to find a name though...). First part to the series is _I'm Fine_.

Another part is _Changing Point._ That story sets place a good while later in the timeline, but I have decided to make it a series after I've written _Changing Point_ and _I'm Fine_.

However, enough rambled here.

Enjoy!

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It rained down on Jon like the thick raindrops, the noise around him, the too loud music and all those voices which tried to make themselves understood over it and it all combined to an artificial thunderstorm. But that was okay because it meant cover. In it he could hide. It made it easier to keep being what people expected him to be. To be who they knew. Daft jokes, most of them coming from him, and loud laughter, hands clapping his shoulder and beer being spilled as people bumped into him constantly. Too many people. He loved it. But more than that he hated it. Wanting to stay in the midst of the clashing life yet there was the burning urge to just leave, get out and somewhere...calm... because he couldn't breathe. It was always the same when he was surrounded by people.

Always?

Huh, no. No... if he was honest with himself, it was not _always_.

His eyes wandered through the room, swept over the colorful and faceless mass of people that gave a pretty good imitation of a busyness you usually only find in an anthill. He was looking for something... or rather for someone. He knew that _he_ was somewhere in here, probably at the far end of the bar, sitting in a secluded booth. He _knew_ that he was here. Because he always was. Waiting.

Joe.

With Joe it was different. With Joe it was... calm. Joe was ease. Ridiculously much so. Not that Jon would have admitted it to him. Fuck, it was hard enough to admit it to himself. With Joe it all was so different. Uncomplicated. Whether they were talking or just sitting in silence, there was never any kind of pressure. No need to be Moxley and there was never the uncomfortable urge to break the silence because it was awkward.

It was why at those evenings Jon was out and Joe was there, too, he would end up sitting with the big man, already being heavily drunk while Joe was not... and Jon would always nurse only one single beer while being in his company. The glass though was seldom empty when they would leave. Having a glass of beer sitting on the table was more a holding on to _something_ instead of holding on to... Joe.

For a moment his mind came to a halt as his eyes found the by now familiar face in the crowd, right where he had suspected to find him. A secluded booth at the far end of the room. A drink was standing in front of Joe who had his arms crossed over his chest, the dark hair was bunned up. His eyes were fixed on his drink but he was looking as if he was somewhere else in his mind, probably lost in his thoughts. The other places at the table were empty. And maybe he was waiting again.

Ever since that night when Joe had simply pulled him into an embrace things had changed. They had moved from just knowing each others names and exchanging a few empty words to becoming... friends. Not the hurried and superficial kind of a _let's go out for a beer_ friendship but an _I'm here for you_ friendship. The being here though was mostly from Joe's side. It was a slow but thorough process and it was good because Jon needed the time to get used to it. They had never talked about it but it seemed that Joe somehow knew it. That Jon had a past that had left invisible scars which made every step on this path difficult.

His eyes dropped to his own drink. Small droplets of condensed water were running down the glass and over his fingers. A hand closed around his shoulder, giving him a slight shake while someone said something to him that drowned in the noise. That he flinched slightly at the contact seemed to go unnoticed by the owner of the hand or any other of the guys standing around him, just like the way he tried to wiggle his shoulder out of the touch. It was always like this. People looked at him but never did they _see_.

That, too, was different with Joe.

Joe _saw_. He saw _Jon_. And sometimes Jon wasn't sure if he should be scared about it because... no one _knew_. That he was living my life with fear bubbling up his throat. That he was guarding his heart with an iron grating and gritted teeth because the prospect of getting _burned_ was enough already to leave him on the porch. He was like Pavlov's dog, already diving for cover when that certain bell was struck. He couldn't get hurt if he didn't play the game, couldn't get burned if he stayed away from the flame. He'd been down that road before and he had left bloody footprints on his staggering way back into a hiding place within himself that had become a stronghold.

Life had taught him all too often that some jumps only ended with splintered bones and he'd become a straight A student over all those long years.

When he had been broken, he'd taken glue and slathered it on his skin, not caring that it made everything only worse because it had given him the feeling of doing _something_ and over the time Jonathan Good had built Moxley, using him like an untamed, ferocious shield when he was bruised and beaten and thrown to the floor. It was when Jon closed his eyes and Moxley opened his, baring his teeth to the world.

Pose right, clench your fists and don't think. Bite your lip, you're alright. You'll survive...

It was the feeling of eyes resting on him, trying to find a way into his mind and it was now that Jon realized... that he was looking at Joe again who met him with eyes that were heavy with questions and their gaze was so intense that Jon felt his chest constricting, that it made him avert his eyes. He was drunk, even too drunk maybe to go to Joe now because his thoughts were like acid tonight and he didn't want the other man to see it. And he would, that Jon was sure of. Joe... he cut through his defenses like a hot knife through butter, breaking down the thick walls he had built over the years just like that.

With a grunt he put his drink on the counter and slipped from his barstool, swaying dangerously. Time to go. Hands on his arms, holding him back but he shook them off, shooting his friends a silly grin as he told them that he just needed to piss. A voice, close to his ear, asking if he was okay.

 _I'm fine._

It passed his lips and he wasn't even sure if... whoever had asked him... had even heard it over the ceaseless flood of noise in here but he didn't care.

I'm fine.

He was... not.

Cool air hit him as he stumbled out of the bar and for a moment he just stood there, eyes closed and his head dipped back, his hands stuffed in the pockets of his jeans as he drew a few deep breaths that should have been working clearing but only made his drunken stupor worse. Shaking his head lightly, Jon turned around to walk the short way back to the hotel. He froze though before he could do even one step.

Joe was there, leaning back against the wall beside the door, a shadow casting over his eyes under the fuzzy light of the street lamp as he was watching him in silence for long seconds, before pushing away from the wall to slowly walk over to Jon. With every step Joe came closer the shadow that was veiling his eyes vanished. Eyes so very gentle yet with so many emotions shining in them. Eyes so intense like an earthquake and Jon knew only one surefire way to avoid falling down the fault line. And that was to stay away. But he also knew that Joe wouldn't allow that, not anymore.

And then Joe stood right there in front of him, the handsome features softening, his eyes glowing with an expression Jon had only seen in them when it was him Joe was looking at. Affection? Affection...

Jon kept looking in those eyes, his lips sealed shut because words failed him right now. But was there a need for words? No. The soft smile on the other man's lips told him that. The tiny nod he gave him. And still he could only keep his gaze locked with Joe's. Ease. There it was again, settling over him... seeping into him. Calming. Dissolving his acid thoughts.

Brows furrowed over brown eyes in worry and suddenly there were hands on his upper arms, holding him steady when he hadn't even realized that he was swaying again. A wave of dizziness washed through him with delay, causing him to screw his eyes shut. The belch that crawled up his throat only a blink later earned him a snort.

"I've been waiting for you," Joe said, stating the obvious but the note that was clinging to those words spoke also of his patiently waiting for Jon at the table.

No question he did. Jon could read it on his face. Huh, funny how something that hadn't been spoken out aloud could make him feel guilty...

Joe's low voice was like a soft breeze, the echoe of the chord in touched in him whispering that he had... that he had missed Joe. Not that he hadn't seen him today already but still... he'd missed him. Without being aware of it. His presence was like a band-aid being put on wounds he hadn't been aware of still being so sore and even bleeding. The hold on him shifted, an arm wrapping around his upper body just tightly enough to be able to both steer him safely towards the hotel and keep him pressed lightly against the other man. A few pieces of torn paper swirled up in a swift puff of nightly air, making them float for a moment as if gravity forgot them and briefly there wish to be this _light_ , at least for one moment in his life, swept through Jon. The arm around his middle pulled him tighter against the massive frame at his side and a hand fisted the front of his shirt as he tripped, probably over his own feet.

"Careful. Where do you think you're going?" he heard Joe laugh softly.

There was mild amusement glinting in the brown eyes that barely dimmed the worry though that was there in them, too.

"Flying..." Jon mumbled, more to himself than to the other man but still loud enough to be heard.

Confusion replaced amusement in the brown depths.

"Jon?"

A grunt was his only answer as he gazed down to the ground, not wanting or rather not being able to explain. Thankfully Joe didn't dig deeper but his arm around him tightened even more.

When they stepped into the elevator of the hotel a while later Jon couldn't recall how they even got here, the way nothing more than a blur. All he knew was that Joe's body had been the only steady thing in this swirl of everything and nothing and Joe's presence the anchor his mind had clung to.

With Joe it was different.

With Joe it was... safe.

When they reached the door to his room, Jon found himself tucked a bit tighter against Joe's side while the big man held his free hand out, wiggling his fingers as he silently asked for the key card. A bit of clumsy fumbling in the various pockets of his jeans later Jon retrieved the small item, handing it over to Joe only reluctantly because... because if he gave it to him, then he would be alone in a few moment.

And here he stood and if he'd wanted to be alone only a short while ago, he know didn't want this man to go.

The door jumped open. Some stumbling, some tripping and an arm around him that kept him from ending up on the floor before he was lowered to sit on the bed, the loss of the arm around him setting the urge free to reach out and just hold him back from going to his own room. He didn't though.

Hunching down in front of him, Joe let his eyes roam his face with a frown etching into his features as he murmured: "You don't look good tonight. You okay?"

I'm fine.

Swallowing hard on the twisted little laughter that wanted out, Jon averted his gaze briefly and as he looked back up, he felt a hard tug at his heart that was caused by the infinite softness those brown eyes met him with.

Was he fine?

"No," Jon breathed because this was Joe... and with him it was different.

Joe's broad chest rose and fell in a heavy sigh, accompanied by a nod, followed by hands which busied themselves on getting Jon's feet freed of his shoes.

"Take your shirt off," Joe said and Jon obeyed or tried to, neatly tying himself up as he tried his best to get the stubborn fabric off.

Fingers touched his bare skin and it chased a shiver down his spine because somehow the touch of those fingers was hot and the way they wandered over his arms to untangle him from his shirt was unfamiliar caring. This man cared. About him. The concept was still new to him, even if their... relationship... had changed to being friends a while ago.

Friend. Joe was his _friend_.

An arm around his upper body, urging him to stand up.

"You can't sleep in your jeans. C'mon, hold on to my shoulders, 'kay?"

He did, steadying himself while being undressed, his eyes fixed on his... friend's... face all the time. Soon after his jeans was slipped down his legs, leaving him standing in only his boxers with his hands still on the broad shoulders and Joe's hands finding a place on his waist, stopping the last bit of drunken swaying. I've got you, their touch said.

It was quiet in the room. And in this quietness Jon felt his mind stop spinning, felt it calm down to the point of being quieter than this room. Peaceful.

And finally... he could breathe again...

"Lie down," came the gentle command while the hands on his waist pushed him down carefully.

It meant that Jon had to let go. Just like it meant that Joe would go now. He would go and he would take the calmess and the peace with him.

" _Joe_ ," he said as the other man pulled back, the single word nothing more than a plea in disguise and far more desperate than he would ever have admitted.

"It's okay, Jon." Lowly spoked and reassuring. "It's okay... I'm not going anywhere."

He heard it but only believed it when he saw his friend peel out of his clothes and oddly enough he felt lighter with every piece of clothe Joe lost.

 _Thank you._

The bouncing of the mattress as Joe made himself comfortable on the other side of the bed shook him out of his frozen state of staring at the other man. Finally lying down, he turned onto his side, facing the big man who was lying on his back, rubbing his eyes tiredly before turning onto his side, facing him, too.

He couldn't curl up against Joe for shelter and so he scooted just a bit closer until he felt the other man's body heat, curling up nevertheless. Life had burned him. _This_ heat, it didn't burn but it made him extra aware of him not being alone and it melted his guards down, cooeing him into taking the chance and braving the plunge, biting his lip and risking getting burned again.

And once more Joe _saw_ and graced him with the softest of smiles, a smile that was making Jon think that a broken bone or two might be worth it and there was something about those brown orbs that made him think of the ocean after the storm has whipped through. There was something about the way they were crinkling in the corners that was promising smooth sailing from here on. It was coaxing him to let go and take Joe's hand and he knew he would fall, but he also knew that Joe wouldn't let him fall alone. There was nobody going to catch them when they hit the bottom but he believed that Joe would cushion him when they crashed and so he gathered the fragile embers of trust that sparked in him and held them close, because he knew that Joe would pick him up gently... because Joe _saw_ that he was only taped together and falling apart around the edges.

The darkness that filled the room as the big man reached back and switched the lights off was thick, blinding him but his mind made him see, showing him the image of Joe's eyes gazing at him with that infinite softness.

 _Sleep_ , he heard a whisper and closing his eyes, he breathed deeply... and let go, cocooned by the darkness and floating in the Joe's warmth and the last thing he knew was a hand, smoothing over his hair... whispering to him that in the end... it would be okay...

\- Fin -

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 **Yeah, well, hope it was tasty? Tell me :)**


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